The Pieces
by CaptainS10
Summary: A response to a prompt on Tumblr. What if Tony had been snapped instead of Peter?
1. Chapter 1

**Hello everyone! So this is a response to a prompt from httydlovena on Tumblr. I said I would try this for them, so here it is! I haven't decided if this is going to be a cohesive, full-chaptered thing or more of a series of scenes that I have in mind, hints this being part 1 and not chapter 1. **

**So the prompt was, in essence, if Tony had been snapped instead of Peter, and what follows that. Some of this is going to be different based on some of my logic, decisions, possibly headcannons, etc, but some of it will be largely the same, hints why I'm not sure how exactly how much I'll be writing out. But anyway, I won't drone on anymore. Thanks to everyone for reading, and I love you all 3000! Part 1 below the cut. **

"Something is coming," Mantis says.

Her voice is barely a whisper, but it carries across the desolate planet as well as if she'd yelled it. Peter doesn't even look up. He scrambles over to Tony, helping the older man to his feet, and they both pretend not to notice how heavily he's leaning against him. Peter doesn't mind, and he doesn't want him to pull away before he's ready to. It wasn't exactly the hug he'd never got, but being close to him in any capacity was… nice. Even if this wasn't the ideal situation.

Far from it, actually, as he's about to find out.

They're barely approaching the wayward group again when Mantis disappears. It's not a flash, exactly; more like she melts away, leaving little pieces floating through the air as the only thing that remains of her in less than a second. If he'd blinked, he could have missed it.

Drax goes next, but he's slower. He calls out to Quill, who just stares at him in horror, as if he can't quite believe what he's seeing.

He still looks like he's trying to process it when he turns to dust, too.

Peter is aware of people talking - Mr. Stark, Doctor Strange, and the blue woman is still there as well. She's silent, for now - at least he thinks. Her lips aren't moving. But he can't really hear anything through the blood pounding in his ears. Is it fear? Adrenaline? A sign that he's going to be next? He doesn't know.

Nothing quite brings you back to reality like the feeling of the person leaning on you starting to move.

No, not move. Disappear.

Peter whirls. Mr. Stark falls on his knees the moment he lets go of Peter, but Peter is there, instantly, gripping the elder hero's arm as if that alone can keep him from going. "Mr. Stark?" His own voice is weak and wobbly, unfamiliar even to his own ears. "Please-"

"Listen to me, kid," Mr. Stark interrupts. His face is streaked with blood and ash and dust, and each one assaults his senses as the man leans closer, pressing his lips to his forehead gently for just a moment. Peter wants to close his eyes, to lean into the feeling, but he's too afraid the moment he does it will all disappear. "It's okay. You're going to be okay. I promise."

He can't promise that, and they both know it. Peter could be next. Even if he isn't, he could be trapped here, or left adrift in space. He may never get home again. He may never see May again, or his friends - if they're even lucky enough to survive. He's not entirely sure what's happening, but Thanos made his goals pretty clear.

Half of everyone. He doesn't know how he did it, but he obviously has.

Peter blinks back tears, squeezing Mr. Stark's arm so hard that he knows it has to hurt. But he can't stop it, can't loosen his grip, and it hardly matters when it turns to dust under his fingers.

His eyes snap to it, the dust floating where the limb should be, sweeping slowly up the rest of his body, and he can't stop the tears from spilling over. Mr. Stark tilts his head back up, his hands so unexpectedly gentle, and the tenderness in his eyes is like a knife to the gut. "Mr. Stark," Peter chokes. "Please, _please _don't go."

Mr. Stark just shakes his head. "I'm so sorry, Pete," he whispers. He reaches up to wipe a tear from his cheek.

His fingers make contact for a split second. Peter closes his eyes, trying to memorize the touch and simultaneously make reality disappear.

When he opens his eyes, reality is still there. But Mr. Stark is gone.

Sobs tear their way up his chest. He falls forward, right into the pile of dust where his hero used to be. The pain is immense, so much so that for a moment he wonders whether he's actually going to go too, if he wasn't spared after all.

But no. He knows this pain. It's the same pain he felt when his parents died. Then again when Ben died.

Every time he thinks he's shaken it, it comes back.

"Kid."

Peter flinches and looks up. His senses are all screaming, and his eyes are wet and wide. He's still sitting in the pile of dust that used to be his mentor, and yet- there's only one person who calls him that, and he can't help but hope-

But it's not an undusted Tony Stark that leans over him. It's the wizard again. Doctor Strange.

Peter doesn't bother to wipe his face. Sadness gives way to fury at the sight of the other man. The one who gave him the stone. Who did this to them, made this all possible-

Strange reads the anger on his face. His face softens almost imperceptibly, and he sighs a little as he kneels down beside him. "I know. I said I wouldn't, and I did, and you're confused and upset, but there's no time to explain. The mirror dimension can only delay the inevitable for so long."

"Mirror-" Peter looks around, confused, and suddenly realizes exactly why all of his senses are screaming. They're in the same place, but it looks… different. Shimmering and refracted on all sides of him, and it's not just because of how wet his eyes are.

"Peter," Strange says, drawing his attention back to him. "I did what I had to. You're not going to understand right now, but you will, eventually. Listen." He puts a hand on his shoulder, and Peter flinches again, unable to help himself. The familiar touches, plus the fact that his senses are in overdrive, make it all too painful, impossible not to react. "I can't hold on much longer. When I let us out of here, there'll be a portal open. I need you to go through it. It'll get you back to Earth, where you'll be safe."

_Safe_. The word resonates something in him, and he looks away. "Safe? I don't think anywhere is safe, not anymore. And what's the point?" He gestures wildly around them. "We lost. It's over."

"It's not over," Doctor Strange says firmly. "This is just the beginning. But only if you do what I tell you to, do you understand? You have to-" He stops, straightening quickly and stumbling back a few feet. "Dammit. We're out of time."

"What?" Peter stands up too, instinctively reaching out to steady him. "I don't understand. What do I have to do?"

"Just-" Strange grimaces, nearly doubling over in front of him. "Go through the portal. You'll figure out the rest."

Peter opens his mouth to protest. This is all too much. He doesn't understand, and he can't pretend that he does. Some part of him wants to listen to Doctor Strange, to believe his assurances that this isn't over, that they can still win, but things look pretty desolate and he's covered in the dust and blood of one of the last few people in the world who gave a shit about him with no guarantee that the others are even still alive. What's the point in going back to Earth? What's the point in any of it? Dying out here would be easier. He wishes he'd been one of the ones to go. He'd have given himself for Mr. Stark in a heartbeat.

But he doesn't get to say any of that, because then the world around him literally _shatters_, and he instantly knows he's back in real time. There's the telltale hiss of a portal opening in front of him, and he knows he should move, should go back through it, but he just can't find the strength.

"_Kid_." Strange's voice again, low and pleading.

Peter closes his eyes against it. He just _can't_.

But Strange isn't talking to him. He'd forgotten about the blue woman, it seems, but she hasn't forgotten about him.

He senses more than hears or sees when Strange goes. The portal is open for a split second after his disappearance.

In that split second, arms circle around his torso, grabbing him tightly, and _yank_.

There's the sensation of freefalling, and he's barely gotten used to it when they slam into solid ground, the cold metal of her partially inhuman form slamming into him.

It hurts, but he barely registers it. His senses are too busy being assaulted by the hellscape that the world has turned into around them.

Shrieking. Honking. Screaming. Crying. Alarms. Metal on metal. The smell of blood, sweat, tears, metal, antiseptic, smoke, but also flowers, grass, the fresh air-

He can feel the grass under his hands, the metal of the nanotech suit is too cold and hard against his skin-

He barely rolls onto his knees before he's retching. He throws up everything he could possibly have in his stomach, then dry heaves for another good few minutes.

Then he collapses, and it's days before he knows anything more.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey everyone! I'm sure you've all figured out the drill at this point. With the virus-that-shall-not-be-named running around and shutting down the whole country, we're all stuck at home with nothing better to do than write. I start online school next week, but hopefully I'll be able to get back into a pretty consistent upload schedule again soon, what with now being home until August again. That all being said, I hope you guys are all doing okay as you can be, and thank you all so much for sticking around and for all the wonderful comments and support. I love you all 3000. Stay safe. 3**

Even when he wakes up, it's days before he really comes to.

The blue woman - Nebula, her name is - takes care of him, with the help of a few other people that he really pays no attention to. The only time he actually comes to for any amount of time is when he hears people talking about his family. He manages to answer, his name, his aunt's name, but sinks immediately back into his catatonic state when he gets the news that she's one of the many people who are gone.

After that, he sinks into a deep catatonic state. He doesn't remember much about it, and it's almost a week before he actually snaps out of it.

Said snapping out of it isn't actually his decision. Strange had dropped them outside of the new Avengers compound, and Peter had taken up residence in the room that Mr. Stark had set up for him months ago, and basically stayed there for most of the week. What finally snaps him out of it is the arrival of what's left of the Avengers.

He hears the muted sounds of people - more people than normal, the rustle that meant commotion outside of the everyday. His senses have been muted since Titan, it feels like, but not enough that he doesn't hear when people come clambering in the building.

Suddenly the door to his room is being thrown open. People are rushing in, but Peter simply lays there. There's a handful of people in the world he wants right now, and none of them are still alive. Sure he'll have to move eventually, but right now is not that time.

Someone settles next to him in the bed. "Hey, kiddo. You want to sit up and talk to us?"

He glances up, unable to resist the pull of the gentle voice, and Black Widow smiles kindly down at him. Still, he shakes his head silently. He doesn't have anything to say to her.

There's a quiet sigh, and another familiar face appears in his vision. "Listen, I know you don't want to talk, but-"

Captain America cuts off abruptly as Peter suddenly sits bolt upright in the bed. He's spent the past week or so feeling numb, tired, and wishing he'd gone instead. He hasn't been able to muster up the strength or the will to feel anything.

That all changes when he sees Cap's face. Suddenly he's feeling something again. Anger. And it is _strong_ as ever.

"Talk? To you?" The words tear out of his mouth without him even thinking about them, his voice raw from almost a week of disuse. "Why should I? It's not like you listen to what anyone has to say. It's not like you _care_ about anyone besides yourself."

"Peter-" Black Widow's hand touches his arm, but he shakes it off, throwing the blankets off and stalking over to the bigger man. He doesn't say anything, nor does he step back as Peter approaches. He simply watches him, looking tired and wary.

If Peter wasn't so angry, wasn't spiraled so deep into his emotions that he had no hope of control, then he might have stopped. Might have seen the exhaustion and pain etched into the other man's face and let it drop. But he just couldn't.

"It's true, isn't it? This is all _your_ fault! Mr. Stark tried to talk to you. He tried to reason with you- _all_ of you! And you ran instead. You _ran_, and then we needed you, and you weren't there. This is exactly what he was trying to prevent! And we could have! If we had all been together, fighting together, we could have stopped him! But instead-" he stops. His voice was rising steadily up until the point where it cracks and breaks, and he has to stop. He takes a shuddering breath, his voice barely a whisper when he continues. "Instead it was just me and Mr. Stark and Dr. Strange and we had to fight him on our own and we _lost_. And then he- he… and I had to _watch…_"

There's no hiding the way his voice breaks this time, and he falls back onto the bed, covering his face with his hands. There's no sound but the varied rates of everyone's heartbeats and breathing for a solid minute before the murmuring starts up again, and then-

Arms wrap around him. Gentle. Solid. Feminine. Long hair covers his shoulders like a curtain, and he takes a shuddering breath, sinking into the comfort without looking up as he dissolves into deep sobs, unable to handle the sudden onslaught of emotions after days of not allowing himself to feel anything.

"I know, I know, it's okay, it's okay," she murmurs, repeatedly, running soothing hands through his hair, down his back, holding him close until his sobs finally begin to peter out. "I've got you, it's okay…"

All of a sudden the voice and the smell register at once, and Peter pulls back, sniffling a little as he peers up at the woman holding him to confirm his suspicions.

Miss Potts smiles sadly down at him. Her eyes are red, too, but overall she projects calm as she looks down at him. "Hey, Peter." She wipes his face with her sleeve. "Feeling a little better?"

Peter swallows thickly. He wants to nod and say yes, to thank her, but what comes out of his mouth instead is, "I'm so sorry, Miss Potts. I-"

"Shh, no, none of that," she interrupts, taking his face in her hands. "You did everything you could, Peter. And none of this is your fault, your hear me? Thanos did what he did. It has nothing to do with you. And Tony-" she swallows thickly, looking down for a moment as if to gather herself before continuing. "He would have chosen the same path in a heartbeat to keep you safe, even if he'd had the option. You can't blame yourself."

He's not so sure how he feels about that, but he simply nods his head and agrees, unsure what else to say. "Where do we go from here?" he whispers, looking up at her with wide eyes. He's never felt so much like a lost child before in his life.

Pepper just smiles sadly at him again before pulling him in. She kisses his hair softly. "I don't know," she admits quietly. "But we'll figure it out, Peter. Together."

"But I'm not- I mean, you don't have to-" he starts to pull back, surprised, but the grip she has on him is firm and unrelenting.

"Don't have to do what? Take care of the child that my husband and I love as our own?" Her eyes are a little watery again, and she blinks them back. "Look, I don't want to overstep, Peter, but… May is gone," she reminds him gently. "And Tony is gone, and so are a lot of others. I'm not going to let you be swept into whatever remains of the system, and I'm fairly sure you're not interested in moving into the Compound with the other Avengers right now."

A few months ago, maybe, but now? Peter has to admit it doesn't sound the least bit appealing. Even if he hadn't just flipped out on Cap, which he had, deservedly or not.

"Yeah… no, I'd rather not," Peter admits, flushing a little.

Pepper smiles. "Good. Because I wanted to let you in on a little secret, but you can't tell the others, alright?"

Peter immediately forgets about all embarrassment over his behavior earlier in favor of concern for the woman in front of him. If there's anything that he knows for sure Mr. Stark would want, it's for someone to take care of Pepper, and he'll be damned if he's letting any one of these sorry excuses for heroes do it. "Of course. You can tell me. But why me?"

"Well, if you're going to be staying with me, you're going to find out anyway. And truth be told, I'm sure there's some things I'll need your help with…"


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry for the lack of updates last week. Just had a lot happening, and needed a little break. It was a definite choice to post now, but I decided trying to bring everyone a little joy is the best I can do at the moment, so I may as well do it. Love you all 3000. 3**

The house is quiet.

It's always quiet for long hours during the week. Peter doesn't mind, honestly. It freaked him out, at first — the dead, still silence, after growing up in the ever-restless and noisy city — but now he'd grown used to it, and kind of relished it, honestly. It was heaven on his always overstimulated senses. He hadn't realized just how bad that was all the time until he'd moved out here with Pepper.

Pepper, who took him in when the world went to shit, who moved them out of the city and away from everything, to the peace and quiet of the woods, after she had seen how Peter was working himself half to death as Spider-Man trying to help as much of the world as he could to rebuild, and with the stated reason of "the chaos that is the city right now is no place to birth or raise a baby."

Right. He didn't entirely believe her, even though he wouldn't want to raise any child in that mess right now, either. Especially as a first time parent.

Because Pepper is pregnant. With a dusted Tony Stark's baby.

And she is still being full Pepper Potts, despite it, running Stark Industries and doing everything she normally does and more, and still managing to find time to take care of herself and the baby.

It'd been a long, emotional day in the house when she first told him. She knew, not long after the snap, before she'd came to the compound to find out what happened and get Peter. She told him how Tony had tried to tell her, ask her about it right before he went to space, but she'd denied it without a second thought. She hadn't noticed the signs yet.

That changed not long after when she started puking, which was an abnormal reaction to her anxiety, after all these years. From there, it wasn't a huge leap.

She had been right when she told Peter she would need his help. She still had to work, and there were so many preparations to make to prepare for a baby. She couldn't be everywhere at once, no matter how hard she tried to be.

So Peter had become a sort of house maid. Not that he had to, or that he was overworked or mistreated in any way. The only thing Pepper had really asked him to work on was the nursery, because while she could plan it all out, the time and the physical ability to put it together was just not there for her.

But she was a busy woman, and Peter, at this point, was not. School for the majority of the world had been put online or on hold, depending on the place, while physical rebuilding could be done and governments could reorganize in the chaos that ensued when half the world had disappeared. And really, he has no intention of going back, even when doors do reopen. He'll finish out online, and go from there, depending on the state that the world is in at the time. And that leaves him with plenty of time to make sure their little house is neat and tidy, to prepare meals for the both of them, and make sure Pepper is eating and sleeping and relaxing like she was supposed to be when she was home. She'd fought him on it, at first, but he's stubborn enough to win.

Today he's working in the nursery again. It's long time to get the furniture moved in and put together in here, so that's what he does. He sits on the floor and puts the crib together, phone playing music quietly in the corner to dispel the never-ending quiet.

Friday pipes up from above him, occasionally, correcting him on little mistakes before he can put the whole crib together wrong, and making casual conversation. Tony had had this lake house built for him and Pepper, as a sort of retirement plan, something he'd always had waiting in the wings - or had for the last several years, anyway, as they found out after the snap. So of course Friday was installed out here, too. There was also a lab downstairs that was locked, last he'd tried to get into it. It only happened once. He'd never felt he had the strength to try to face it again.

Once he's finished, he moves around the last of the miscellaneous furniture to its places and looks around. Aside from the various wall decor he has yet to put up, it's finally finished.

He can't help feeling a sense of accomplishment, but also deep sorrow at the sight. Tony should have been the one to do this. Peter should have been the one to be dusted. The whole world would be better off, he's sure of it.

But there's nothing he can do to change it, so he takes a deep breath and tells himself to shake it off. There's still more to do before he calls it quits for the day.

"Oh, _Peter_."

Pepper has appeared behind him. He turns, seeing her standing in the doorway with a hand over her mouth and eyes bright with tears. "Oh, uh, Miss Potts- it's not done yet, but-"

"It's perfect," Pepper interrupts gently, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Everything is perfect. What more could you possibly do?"

"There's some wall decals and miscellaneous decorating stuff to come in. Small stuff. So it is mostly done, I guess, but…"

"It just doesn't feel done?" Pepper finishes, her tone still maddeningly gentle. "Any thoughts on why?"

"I just…" He hesitates. "I wish he was here to see it. Or that there was at least something we could do to make it feel like he had more of a part in this."

Pepper sighs a little. "I know, kiddo. Me, too." She pauses. "Maybe there's something in the lab or something… I'm sure if you looked you could find something usable."

Peter chews his lip. "But… I can't get into the lab here. He locked it, remember?"

Pepper looks confused. "Yeah, but you're authorized to go in. You have as much access to Friday as I do, Peter. More than anyone except Tony."

Peter blinks, stunned. "I do?"

"Of course you do. You didn't realize?"

"No…"

"Well, you always have. And you could honestly probably increase your access, if you wanted to. You have a backdoor into Friday from Karen. Haven't you ever thought to ask her?"

Peter just shakes his head dumbly. He never imagined he'd have been given access to Friday. Why would he? He had never got to go to the tower or the compound very much, and he had Karen. He'd never even considered it.

"Well, maybe ask one of them about it," Pepper tells him gently. "And if you find something you like, go ahead and incorporate it. I trust your judgment."

_I trust your judgement._ Why do those words weigh so heavily on him now?

"Thanks, Miss Potts," is all he says in return. "I'll see what I can find, then."

But it's days before he works up the courage, again, to actually try.

The motivation to comes when Pepper calls him from work to tell him she's having contractions, and going to the hospital to get checked out, so not to wait up for her or make anything for dinner. He hangs up the call with a renewed sense of determination.

What he finds could be painful, sure. But he just can't fathom the thought of Pepper bringing a little baby Stark home without some piece of her father in that room.

So he steels himself and marches down to the garage, determined not to leave until he's found or built something suitable to go in baby Morgan's room.

And, well, if he stays down there the rest of the day and all night, and doesn't really emerge at all until Pepper is supposed to be on her way home with a baby… that's no one's business but his.


End file.
